


The Futurist.

by Jolly Camaleonte (ginnyx)



Category: Metallica
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hardwired era, James and Lars relationship dynamic, Modern Era, Phone Calls, alcoholism implied but not mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyx/pseuds/Jolly%20Camaleonte
Summary: James calls Lars to tell him about rehab.This is the aftermath. This is Lars after.When doubt returnsMay it beThat faith shall permeate our scars
Relationships: James Hetfield & Lars Ulrich
Kudos: 8





	The Futurist.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing it at the end of September, a few days after James announcement to go to rehab. It was a way to cope, to let myself live with the emotions that that announcement stirred. I’m so glad he is doing better.  
> And don't worry, this ends well!
> 
> The song in the summary is Now That We Are Dead.

It’s early morning, 4 a.m. in San Francisco.

Blue light gently comes from the window and mingles with the intense, hot, white one coming from the lamp and the cold, blaring one from the computer.  
Lars doesn’t make a sound, hands cradling his own face, staring at a desk cluttered with calendars on screen and paper.

It _must_ work.

It’s not a real problem because _it’s going to work_.

He did it so many times before.

(It’s hard every time.)

He could have done it tomorrow –meaning, in a few hours- but he knows that if he doesn’t plan the schedule first thing first, he will not keep going –on to the next task, step and solution.

James called him for that: a solution.

And all the afternoon –all the run after, the calls, the explaining, and the damn misty eyes that kept popping up— James’ words were ringing in his hears.

He massages one, subconsciously, warm and achy from the hours spent pushed against the phone.

**“Did you tell the others?”**

**“You are the last one.”**

It’s…

Oh god, he wants to say _unexpected_ , but it carries too much meaning and implications and expectations and—

He just scratches his arm and turns off the lights, the monitor too, and watches San Francisco’s sky: he tries to think about the colors he sees –the perfect azure for the black painting of last week— but his mind just doesn’t care enough.

And he is _pissed_.

He shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it; he simply shouldn’t because he trusts James, these things happen, he fucking knows that it happens all the time even with an almost twenty years benchmark around the corner.

_Does he still have all those books about alcoholism?_

He remembers Kirk watching them, in the bookshelf of the old house, during one hang out or the other. He remembers his gaze on them, his gaze on Lars himself, and the silent smile that followed.

God, maybe he could call Kirk?, put up a pity party for two, cry a bit and then pour out all the damn questions still crowding against his teeth?

_(did you know_

_did you notice_

_has he told you_

_what kind of_

_what we_

_is he)_

Lars snorts bitterly and squeezes his eyes –again, misty— with both hands.

What time is it in Hawaii, anyway?

**“I just… and oh, I keep say ‘I’, because it’s me, I’m the problem: I know”,**

**he laughed again, Lars winching and wringing his fingers,**

**“I swear I know.”**

No, no use to do it now, not before a schedule: one can only talk _Before_ to plan _The After_. It’s safer, no fear to lose yourself in futile what ifs and anxiety.

Lars is the man with the plan.

**“James, I— you—"**

Lars doesn’t like to talk Past.

_(“Why can’t we talk about the future? What about the Now?”)_

**“You are not a problem, you—”**

**“Yeah, right.”**

**“No, listen to me: you are not a fucking problem. You are a human with a problem.”**

_And my best friend_ , he didn’t say.

He did not because it was not about “Lars&James show”, not in that moment.

He knows what James needs and he knows how to be it, how to be a rock, how to make the right promise.

Lars learned.

(He passed years in fog and cages of glass, but he _learned_.)

**“You can’t drown with a rock in sight. I’m gonna be a rock, I’m not moving; when you’ll—”**

_(come back_

_beat it back_

_be safe)_

**“—when we’ll see each other again, you’ll find me exactly there, the rock protecting the bay.”**

Such a heavy sigh crackled in his ear then.

**“I don’t know, I can’t tell you when I—”**

**“What about a car analogy?”**

**“What?”**

**“You love your car analogy.”**

Lars stands up abruptly.

He is not going there, _he is not_.

So, he goes on the balcony, unto the fresh air, hoping that it would stop his eyes to warm up even more.

What’s the use?

Honestly, what’s the use of keep thinking about it?

It already happened, it’s not like—

**«C’mon, y’know: “Metallica is a car, me and Lars are steering the wheel…”»**

**«I know what I said, I just don’t get—»**

**«So, we are at the helm, but you need a breather, right? Then we stop at a service area, so you can get down and… do your thing.»**

**«Lars…»**

What a fucking trainwreck.

A _car_ wreck.

**«In the meantime, we also get out and… check the oil, the wheels, give it a little shine, you pick it.»**

**«Lars—»**

How _stupid_ one person can be?

Seriously, he had one job. Should’ve been easy, right?

How difficult “keep your mouth shut” is to remember.

**«We just do our thing! Nothing happens! The car stays _right there_ –us too— waiting for you to come back.»**

And then came the silence.

**«Yeah. Sure.»**

And with that the silence stayed, James completely shut him out.

Only grunts and hums for five fucking minutes, till Lars couldn’t take it anymore and lied, fucking lied to his fucking best friend about an appointment or some shit.

_Too many expectations._

He should have known, honestly.

He should have _learned_ by now.

People call him for a reason, for the _“futurist”_ thing:

_Look at the horizon and try to see the future before anyone else does._

That’s what James was asking, it was not that difficult.

Why, why couldn’t he just simply—

_Because I don’t want to look at the horizon._

_I want to look at—_

**I needed—**

That is obviously the moment when his phone goes off.

Lars wants so bad to ignore it and ride this wave of panic off before he has to interact with other people, but he can’t.

The vibration is getting _so_ on his nerves that he picks it up –pondering upon defenestration as the best problem-solving solution— when he notices the name.

_Of fucking course._

_Of fucking course, he is calling now of all the time._

He gives himself the time to sniff once and then he just gets over with it.

He chooses green.

«Ehy there.»

«Lars, what aren’t you telling me?»

_Fuck, he noticed._

_What a way to start, uh?_

«… Lars?»

_Think, think of **something**._

«My mind is starting to get creative here, just tell me.»

_Don’t go there._

«I can’t say it.»

_Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t._

«Why not?»

«I don’t want to… I just want to _help_.»

_Believe me._

«Ok, _now_ my mind is getting really creative and you know, _you know,_ I’m gonna come up with much worst shit than the one you’re holding onto. Please, don’t leave me like that.»

«James, I swear…»

«Don’t leave me with this in my head, eating me up for _months_ , torturing me with what one of my best friends in the world could—»

«I need to see you.»

_Fuck._

«I’m sorr—?»

_Shit. Blurting out it is._

«I need to see you right now. And I’ve needed it since yesterday conversation started, because if I can see you, I can attune myself to you, I can understand what you are saying, thinking. And I know I’m a needy fucker, so that’s—»

Lars stops abruptly at the pinging sound from his phone.

His finger taps softly.

«Ehy.»

James is looking at him.

_(A videocall.)_

Lars just watches his face and finds…

«Lars, you can see me, right?»

_Finds him._

«Yes. Yes, I was just…»

_Finds him exactly how he is supposed to be._

«Watching me?»

James snorts a James’ snort.

«You know I can always give you a picture: it lasts longer.»

 _I have those, still preferring the original subject_ , he will rebut in his head, hours later.

For now, he says:

«I’m sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out.»

«It’s all right, I’m sorry too that I couldn’t do this in person; but the idea of hours in airports, and flying, and…»

«Dude, no; no apologies needed: you made the right call.»

The moment Lars notices his involuntary pun is the moment James laughs.

«The right _call_.»

_And he feels already better._

«Thank you. I need this.»

James shrugs –easy, big shoulders on screen.

And how _good_ is to see that? To be _able to_?

«No sweat, man. Really.»

Like this, Lars can tell that James means it, and they are back to be the usual dudes who can’t bear to wait more than five seconds to say sorry to one another. _Sickening._

Still, he knows James.

«But you wanna know why I was so hung up on it.»

«If you feel like it, but mostly I’m just happy that you are here, now.»

That—

_Wait, what does that mean?_

«What does that mean?»

«It means that I get a warm, fuzzy feeling having the knowledge that—»

Lars swats the air, but can’t stop the snort.

«Very funny, dude. But I was trying to be serious. We’re having a _very_ serious moment here, didn’t you catch the memo?»

«You know I hate memos; ah! one good thing out of this: no more memos for me for a while!»

He ignores him and keeps his head on the track, like a good (Danish) hound.

«What did you mean by “I’m just happy that you are here now”? I didn’t go anywhere.»

Lars watches James taking the words in and dropping his eyes on the wooden table in front of him.

There it is: silence again.

But this time Lars isn’t afraid.

_He can see James._

James, just passing his nail through the wood grains.

James, just needing time.

«You kinda did.»

_And there it is._

«When, when did I go away?»

He asks, softly.

«When I called, yesterday.»

Lars is really dumbfounded, so much that he starts questioning his own memory.

Did he—

Did he go somewhere; did he left the phone, even for a second, to—

No.

He didn’t.

_He was gripping the damn thing like a lifeline._

«I don’t think I understand, James.»

(Years and years ago he would have straight up told him he was wrong.)

(What amazing progress one can achieve through three years of agony and healthy tornados.)

«It’s just…»

James still isn’t looking up, giving Lars the perfect vision of his stunningly good hairline.

«Take your time, no rush.»

He begins to scratch the wood, frustrated.

«I know it sounds dumb, but I know, ok?»

«O… kay?»

«I know when you are here with me, or not. I just _know_.»

Lars blinks but keeps his eyes fixed on him –watching, searching.

«I believe you.»

James grunts and goes on with his improvised carpentry.

«Just to understand: am I here with you, now?»

« _Yes._ »

The curt, bored response means _why are you asking me dumb questions you know the answer of_.

«But… yesterday, on the phone, I wasn’t?»

That, at least, gets a glance thrown at him.

_(A pissy glance, but Lars is not picky at the moment.)_

«Just checking, just checking.»

Lars holds up his hands and James stops scratching.

He inhales and straightens his back, looking to the screen with determination.

_Ohhh, the ‘confession mode’._

«I’m not saying that you weren’t listening to me or something because—»

«Because I was!»

«Because you were, I know that. Thank you for that.»

James interlaces his fingers and tries to stand even more straight.

_That’s what bravery and open heart looks on him._

«And I didn’t feel that way –that you were elsewhere— at the beginning.»

«So, something changed.»

He nods, the line of his shoulders sags a little, into a gentler slope.

«Something changed. And I **_hated it_**. One moment I was talking with my friend, showing him my wounds, my charred insides, and the next— you do this a lot, _used to_ even more. But not to me. Not on this.»

That.

_That raises up an ancient fear._

Lars’ gut wrenches.

«I did not go business mode on you. I swear, James, _I swear_ —»

«Not that.»

His jaw clicks shut –but all the parentheses in his stomach do not, leaving him nauseated and jittery.

«Ok, ok, then what? What did I do?»

He is not proud of his tone of voice right now, but it’s the only one he can muster at the moment.

«This is gonna make me sound crazy.»

In another state of mind, he would have answered something like _don’t make me say Sanitarium jokes, we run out of all the good ones in ’86_.

But here he manages only to blurt out:

«I’ll believe you.»

James breathes.

_(And it’s enough.)_

«You have a ‘future voice’.»

«Okay.»

«And you use it when you do your horizon thing.»

«Horiz— you mean ‘futurist’. When I—»

«Call it what you want, I just know when you do— _‘futuristic’_ shit. Looking at a crystal ball only you can see and running numbers on labyrinths we have yet to _fucking enter_.»

Lars doesn’t know what to think, he rubs his head.

«I— I thought that’s what you wanted.»

«What?»

«From me. You called me for that.»

«I did _not_.»

James scoffs, uptight, crossing arms.

Lars instead leans forward –his guts in a vice, his eyes big.

«I thought now we trusted each other on this.»

James’ arms untie almost immediately.

«That we are over—That you trust me to plan—»

«I do, Lars. _Of course_ I do. That’s a given, that’s why I’m leaving it all to you. But I did not call you for that…»

Lars sighs and sags in his own hands.

« _Fuck_.»

«Yeah.»

«I thought you— I was trying to _help_.»

And Lars’ tone is so desperate and bare that James feels a pang.

An urge, a… _something_ , an instinct to check, to put fingers on known shoulders and ask to see.

_Let me see you._

As many times before, Lars responds even when not asked.

He shifts his face a bit, enough to free a single green eye and looks at him.

(James doesn’t know how this works, how it happens, _why them_ , but it does.)

_(And it feels so right.)_

«I thought you needed that, my planning ahead, to have— some peace of mind. At least on _this_. That was mine to give, I wanted to give it to you, I’ve got the power to—»

His voice his muffled by palms and rough skin, but it rings true.

«You already gave me that, in fact I was so sure of it, of you, that… I kinda gave that aspect for granted?»

Lars laughs, bitter and sweet and tired.

The hands come down; his head shakes a bit in an intimate irony.

«To think that I forced myself.»

«What do you mean?»

He puffs and his fingertips fend the air idly.

«During the call, yesterday, I was fucking battling with my brain because I wanted to say so many things… but I _didn’t_ –telling myself that they weren’t what you needed, wanted. That you needed a plan.»

«Tell me now.»

James whispers, soft and low, and Lars looks at him, for an instant, then he inhales –eyes closed.

«This is not 2001.»

« _No shit._ »

James laughs, nervous and trying not to be.

«This is not 2001, 2 or 3. Fuck, this is not even 2009 or 2013. I’m not afraid anymore. All these years of _work_ and _sweat_ — I trust us. No, listen: I have _faith_ in us, in what we’ve done, in all these fucking years. I’m _sure_.»

His eyes open, steady.

«Fuck the past.»

His hand flies to the right…

«And fuck the future, too.»

… and then to the left.

«I’m sure of us _now_.»

His forefinger jabs the air in front of the screen.

James doesn’t know what to say, and Lars stands there smacking his lips, aching for a toothpick to fiddle with.

He turns his head and stares out of the window.

«I’m sure too.»

He nods.

«Are we going full disclosure, right?»

James watches his profile, all soft cheeks and big eyes.

The resolution is shit, but he knows they are misty.

«Kinda the main theme, right now; yeah.»

Lars sniffs and then laughs.

«Well, then you’ll be happy to know that I want a fucking hug, now.»

James chuckles and begins to singsong.

«Aw, don’t be _saaaad_.»

He leans forward and stage whispers:

«Do you want me to call Jess’ phone waking her up and to take the blame, so you’ll get some snuggle right away?»

Which is James-speak for “I want one too”.

«For your information, I’m physically restraining myself from booking the first San Fran- _Eagle-fucking-County-Regional-Airport-shit_ flight available.»

Lars is smirking, he is joking, but the idea is really there.

James shrugs, nonchalantly.

«I’m not stopping you.»

And of course Lars pushes, see where he can get.

«Soooo, I can come, slum at yours for a while and then join the Hetfield clan for the car ride to the clinic.»

James is grinning, not giving it out so easy.

«All the kids are coming, and the car is a five-seater.»

«Well… then I will sit in the back. And we’ll put Marcella in my lap. There, solved!»

«Marcella is taller than you, Lars.»

«Already? _Fuck_.»

James really tries not to laugh.

«Thennn… I can sit on Francesca’s lap, up front with the adults.»

Now he is full blown snickering.

«Oh god I can see the headlines: “Metallica’s frontman James Hetfield stopped by cops on his way to a rehab clinic, found with his drummer strapped on his wife; his children still in the backseats”.»

_But Lars doesn’t give up._

«You goddamn killjoy. All right, all right: I’ll hide in the trunk.»

_Either does James._

«You can’t. We… we are gonna take the dogs too, big goodbye.»

«OH, C’ _MON_!»

James stifles his laugh, but he doesn’t give him an out.

_Competitive fuckers._

«The rooftop!»

_Both of them._

«Uhhhhhhh, the kids’ bikes!! They want to come back on their bikes!»

Lars throws his hands in the air and James fucking burst out laughing.

_That._

That makes Lars so glad that he doesn’t even bother keeping up the ridiculousness or faking some kind of outrage.

He just looks at his best friend’s face, crinkled with dumb happiness, and sighs satisfied.

«Well, then I think we’re good.»

James is caught a bit off guard.

«Uh, you—»

He stutters, before his brain starts again.

«Listen if you really—»

«James, dude it’s ok, I’m—»

«We could take two cars.»

Lars’ eyes go soft on the sides and he smiles.

«Some time ago you said that our relationship is not defined by need…»

«But by want, yeah; I remember.»

Lars opens his arms wide.

«So there is that: I don’t need to come with you, I don’t need to sit in that car.»

«But you want to.»

«But I want to.»

Lars concede, his voice cracking high in the middle.

«I’m gonna call, though.»

«Please do.»

«And I’m gonna narrate to you every second of Kirk’s drumming vids.»

James chuckles.

« _Please do._ »

And then they stay there, watching each other, not knowing what to do with themselves or the dawn.

But Lars of course is always the first.

«I’m gonna let you go, what time is it?»

He searches for his watch with his gaze.

«If you go to bed now, you maybe can get a couple of—»

«Don’t.»

The word is rushed, clipped, but it gets James’ point across.

«Ok.»

«Stay a bit; unless…»

«No, no, I can stay. Not sleepy.»

«Me either. My sleep has been shitty for a while, I… I don’t want to go to bed. It’s useless.»

He shrugs and throws a quick look at him, then at his hands.

«Ok, then… what about breakfast?»

Lars’ voice is mellow and James listens.

«What about it?»

«It’s almost six at yours, right?»

«A quarter to, yeah.»

«So let’s make some breakfast!»

Suddenly Lars gets off screen.

He seems puzzled in front of the blurry-moving screen, but Lars voice stays cool and soothing.

«On the phone?»

The moving stops, and Lars’ nostrils get a close up, while their owner adjusts the angle.

«Why not? That can’t be so complicated.»

«Wait till you ask me to pass you the pancake batter.»

James hears a snort and tinkling metal sounds.

He can see the kitchen counter.

«Hilarious. So, pancake it is?»

«Are you serious, Lars?»

«I told you: we are getting breakfast ready for our ladies and we are gonna do it together. Simultaneously. Our pancakes are gonna be twins… pan-twins! Twin-cakes? Pancake sibilings maybe?»

James hears only half of it, drowned by the noise of pots and pans being piled together on the counter.

«Lars, it’s not even _five_ in San Francisco. When do you think Jessica’s gonna eat those?»

He sees hands freezing for a moment, then moving in a _whateva_ manner.

«Maybe she will subconsciously smell them and wake up?»

«Oh, _please_.»

«Ok, maybe I’ll eat them and keep some batter for later on, who gives a shit, let’s just do this.»

«Why?»

And Lars sighs, stopping pouring every kitchen utensil known to man on the counter.

«Because leaving you in your head is not a good thing right now, and creating— creating gets you out of it, it makes you feel good.»

He is looking at James, steadfast and sure.

«And you and me creating together? Even fucking _better_.»

He still has doubts –he doesn’t even know if there are eggs in the fridge— but Lars is right.

It is _good_ , creating something, creating it with him.

«Ok, ok: I’m in.»

«Cool, let’s make the best pancakes that San Francisco and Vail have ever seen! Now find me a recipe.»

«Wait, you don’t know how to make them?»

«Ehy, you were the one to suggest it! Also, I’m not the pancake man in this band, give me a break.»

James crosses his arm, arching an eyebrow.

«So, what? Are we gonna call Kirk? What time is it in Hawaii anyway?»

Lars huffs and rolls his eyes at him.

«Like 3 a.m. or something, so look up the damn recipe already, c’mon!!»

˜

Here’s what happened next:

They found a recipe and then proceed not to follow it at all.

It took them double the time needed, too much pans and a lot of giggling.

Also, there may have been a flipping pancake contest at one point or the other, but James will deny losing it till the end of time.

So, when Francesca comes down an hour later, she finds the table ready, various stacks of pancakes in the plates and her husband humming at the sink, smiling at his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was hell to write. I'm not used to write drafts, I just write, but this damn thing exists in THREE DIFFERENT VERSIONS. You are looking at 3.0, I hope you liked it (one of them even had a shouting match, Lars crying; the other didn't have flashback, was straight up the first part of the phonecall and didn't end well).
> 
> MORE IMPORTANT >>> what is true in all this?
> 
> -Kirk is the pancake man of the band, you can see him making some in Jump in the studio videos and also an interview in which Kirk admitted going to Joey Ramones’ house to make some pancakes bc the man wouldn’t believe in his cooking ability.  
> -“Why can’t we talk about the future? What about the Now?” comes from a SW! interview where Lars responds like this at Steffan’s request to talk about month before.  
> \- “He passed years in fog and cages of glass, but he learned”: the fog here is the same from that SKOM cut scene “I never feel I get closer to see anything clearer, I don’t know where this is going. I just wish I had some clarity in my life, ok? It’s been a year and half of fog.”  
> -the futurist thing/looking at the horizon: this shit is straight up taken from the man’s mouth; I swear it’s not my agenda to make him sound like Tony Stark or something xD; you can find it in the Special SW!/Metal Hammer for the 30th anniversary, in Lars’ piece.  
> -“I need to see you right now. And I’ve needed it since yesterday conversation started, because if I can see you, I can attune myself to you, I can understand what you are saying, thinking.” This concept is taken from a It’s electric episode, the one with Les Claypool, in which basically Lars admit to have this need with James sometime. I don’t want to say more, if you haven’t seen it, bc it’s PURE QUALITY CONTENT. It’s on youtube, go see it, I can give you a link  
> -“I did not go business mode on you. I swear, James, I swear—" that also comes from a really good SW! interview that you can find in the book The good, the mad and the ugly; it was heartbreaking: basically Lars was telling how sometimes he spent so much time talking business, all day long, that his brain kept talking like that to people he loved, like his father, and he felt shitty about it, he sometimes didn’t even realize he was doing it.  
> -In the same interview and the years after Lars often talked about trying to live the NOW, and not always rushing to the future  
> -“clicking shut […] the parentheses” it’s a beautiful image and it’s not mine, I basically stole and rearranged a line from Richard Siken’ poem Meanwhile:  
> Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like everything's okay,  
> a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,  
> the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.  
> -“Some time ago you said that our relationship is not defined by need…”  
> “But by want, yeah; I remember.” James said this a couple of times, but the first that comes to mind is also in the special issue for the 30th anniversary, during his interview. It was heartwarming.


End file.
